


Mission: Failure

by TheLonelyTree



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Ed level swearing, Gen, Gets darker as the story continues, Humor, Kidnapping, More tags to be added, Really light at the start, Slight Royai, some angst too, use of oc's - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24567898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyTree/pseuds/TheLonelyTree
Summary: People are going missing in a town north of Eastern Command. After a string of investigators have been rejected the Fullmetal Alchemist is sent in. Hawkeye and Havoc in tow. The problem? It's an undercover mission and Edward really doesn't understand how to fit in at a school. Oh, and apparently Mustang decides to drop by too.***Another typical undercover scenario. But with some twists. Slight Royai if you squint.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	1. Mission: Underway

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own FMA or FMA:B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B

Her arms were crossed as she assessed him with a disbelieving once over. The pale pink cardigan made a scratching sound as she went to fix her glasses, tiny wired things, over her eyes once more. “So this is him?” she asked disdainfully, speaking as though he was some sort of filth stuck on the bottom of her shoe. 

“Yes,” Hawkeye replied. It was just as curt - just as disparaging as the headmistress. “I know he does seem young, but Edward here is an extremely brilliant boy. It would be unfair of you to discredit his importance so soon after you met him.”

The tension was palpable. It felt like a chill had crept into the room, possessing its occupants. The icy glares coming from both women said as much. From the corner of his eye, Ed could tell that the man beside him felt the same, shifting ever so subtly to ease their discomfort. 

Lady Abigail Blanchard hadn’t been hard to spot in a crowd. Her posture was upright and stiff, and her face was constantly pinched in the same way that a frown was formed when you bit into a sour fruit. With Lieutenant Hawkeye’s keen eye, they had tracked her down in less than a minute after arriving on campus. When they spoke to her they realized her voice was shrill and entirely unpleasant, grinding out a biting, “What do you want” at the sight of their military blues.

As it turned out, she would be playing one of the key roles in their private investigation, a missing persons case in the isolated town of Crosshurst. In the two minutes that he had been in her presence, he’d established that 1) her mannerisms were not at all misrepresenting of her scalding personality, and 2) that she had no respect for anyone associated with the military. 

Naturally, when she scoffed at Hawkeye’s insistence of his competency, he’d jumped to defend himself, only withholding his  _ brilliant _ vocabulary, because of his fear of the gun tucked under the lieutenant’s belt.

“I don’t want him,” Blanchard said, “send another.” The blond boy bristled at that.  _ She had no right to assume he couldn’t do his job just because he was a child. _ The click of a gun stopped him from ranting a second time as Hawkeye tried once more to convince the woman.

Only, this time she unabashedly fondled the gun in her grip, smiling slightly as she said, “If you want me to report to my superiors that  _ yet again _ you’ve sent another group back to headquarters, that they weren’t inconspicuous enough, then I’ll have to mention your reluctance to them as well. Unfortunately, that can be seen as trying to hinder the investigation, and you’ll be listed under the list of suspects. All, of which, have been sent to Eastern Command to be questioned and detained. I assure you, it is in your best interest to accept our offer.”

The prickly woman scowled, but seemed chastised for the moment. “Fine,” she accused, “but he’ll have to be on his best behavior. He’s not allowed to fraternize with any of the girls. I won’t stand for it. And another thing, I want that Mustang fellow to stay away. Goodness knows I’ve had enough of him without him actually being here.”

Ed responded with a huge, “I’m not a pervert you bitch!” while at the same time Hawkeye more eloquently said, “I can’t promise that m’am.”

For his rebuttal, the Fullmetal Alchemist earned a sharp flick to his neck, courtesy of Jean Havoc, but Ed ignored that in favor of giving the lieutenant with a look that screamed, ‘what the hell, Hawkeye?’ instead.

“I apologize Edward, I didn’t mean to insinuate that you would do you such things,” translation, if you try there will be three bullet holes in you before you so much as blink, “I only meant that I am required to report to the colonial everyday on new findings with the mission and if he deems it necessary to oversee it himself, then he will.” 

Blanchard rolled her eyes. “You people in the military always think you have the power to do whatever you want. All that does is start riots. I’m warning you that your involvement will only be the catalyst for chaos. We already have our local investigators on it, what more can you people do?”

“Infiltration, subterfuge, you name it,” Havoc said, butting into the conversation as some sort of saving grace. The deadly stare down ceased for a moment. 

The headmistress sighed. “Don’t make me regret this. There’s a good reason why you’re unwelcome around here.” Turning to address Ed, she said, “Now, if you’re planning on enrolling in this school you’ll be in need of a uniform. I’ll have to find you the smallest size we’ve got.”

“Small!” Ed visibly fumed. “I’m not small! You are freakishly tall. Girls aren’t supposed to be built that way. What happened, did your mom marry a giant?” There was a low whistle behind him; it was the kind used when everyone knew you’d messed up... _ bad _ .

Blanchard’s eyes narrowed, and her mouth flattened into a straight line. Sharply turning to the only other female in the room, she said, “I don’t know how you’ve been disciplined in the military, Elizabeth, but you should remember that from where we’re from a mouth like that should be washed out with soap. While he’s enrolled in my school, he _will_ follow my rules or else he _will_ be given demerits and he _will_ be sent to my office. I doubt he’ll be able to follow his orders from there.”

Feeling the glares of the older men and women around him Ed shrunk a little. “I apologize for Edward’s behavior, it won’t happen again,” Hawkeye said.

“Well see to it. Now, if you have any more questions you better come to me alone. Don’t offend me with this joke you call an entourage,” she sniffed haughtily. “I’ll have someone drop his uniform off at your residence.”

***

“Wow, she was a real class bitch, wasn’t she?” Ed laughed at Havoc’s remark. He didn’t understand what made her qualified to run a school. At least Teacher didn’t treat him like an invalid when she knocked him down a peg. She always treated him like an adult. Though, Teacher might murder him if he did ever tell her about his mission. She hated the military too. A small shudder passed through his body. 

From the driver’s seat of the car Hawkeye chided, “Havoc, that was an entirely unprofessional remark. Please refrain from using it ever again.” The man looked down scolded. “However, I can say that those words aren’t entirely wrong in describing her.”

“Aww, Hawkeye, you do care!”

Ed smiled at their interactions, deciding to rest his cheek on the window and listen half-heartedly while the second lieutenant moved on to jovially chat about past lady-lovers. Somewhere around the time where Havoc was describing a ‘blonde bombshell with legs for days’ Ed drifted off.

He was awoken by the soft mutterings of his name. Blinking his eyes open he saw Havoc’s face. Not wanting to feel babied he complained, “I could’ve hurt you, you know.” The man smiled. “Seriously, a few weeks ago I woke up in a local hospital and ended up punching the man checking my bandages. I broke his nose.” 

Jean frowned at that, but otherwise didn’t look remorseful. “Come on, we’re here. We should get inside.”

Sitting up he noticed the darkness outside of the car glass. “How long was I out?”

“Maybe an hour, two at most.” Upon seeing Ed’s inquisitive gaze, Jean added, “You were pretty conked out. We felt like you needed the rest.”

Ed jumped up, “Two hours!”

Startled, Havoc asked, “W-what? Is something wrong?” Two hours means…

He raced around the car and flipped open the trunk, searching for the bags. “The bags! Where are the bags?”

The older man looked scared. “The first lieutenant brought them up already… Why, what’s so important?”

“The food!”

“The food?”

“Earlier in town, when we were given time to shop for necessities, I went to this odd looking restaurant. They were selling weird buns with chunks of meat on it and I ordered some. It was really good, so I bought another for dinner. But, they’re only supposed to be good hot… what?”

Havoc was chortoling. The man’s arms were crossing across his midsection to ease his laughter. 

“What’s so funny,” Ed repeated.

The laughter slowed a little, but didn’t stop. “Ahhhh, nothing, just…” more giggles. “When we were carrying your stuff to the house we saw red staining your bag. Thought someone had died or something. But then I smelled your bag, and realized it was just food. Your sloppy joe is dead though, sorry Boss.”

“Sloppy joe?”

“It’s the food you were eating,” he clarified. “ Hawkeye was upset though. It messed with her clothes. I didn’t even know she had anything that wasn’t in blue. Well, anyways, all you need to know is that your joe was thrown away, and the first lieutenant is washing our clothes. Oh, and, she might be pissed, so you know, be careful.”

Ed gave the man a weird side-eyed stare before making his way up the porch. The house was plain enough, with white-painted walls and a square frame. Ed tested the knob to find it unlocked. He entered, wary of the blonde lady that could be lurking inside. Across the floor, there was dust scattered and fallen cobwebs. The furniture was stained and ripped in some places. There was a stark contrast between the inside and outside. Making his way upstairs, he found Hawkeye leaning out a window, presumably hanging clothes out the window. 

“Hey, lieutenant, need a hand?” he offered. 

“I’m good Edward.” That’s good. Maybe she wasn’t mad. “Though the house is in a bit of a rough shape. Maybe you could help with that?” Or not. The boy gulped, realizing he had his work cut out for him.

“Sure,” he said, not wanting to disappoint Hawkeye. He started with the furniture, wanting a clean place to rest in case the alchemy took more out of him than it should. By the time he was done with that, Havoc had already come in and started putting groceries away. He’d joined the man after a little, upon the request to inspect the cabinet to make sure it wouldn’t break. During his inspection he noticed small disruptions in the wood.

“Huh,” he said. 

“What?” the other man asked.

“Well, these markings,” Ed pointed to the underside of the hanging cabinets, where the disruptions were, “It’s definite signs of a transmutation. It seems like whoever used to live here was an alchemist.”

Havoc scoffed, “And he couldn’t have been generous enough to clean up the place before he left?”

Ed silently agreed. The place was a wreck. Usually missions coincided with nice inns to make up for the fact that the job was less than enjoyable. “How much did you spend on this place anyways? It doesn’t look worth 10,000 cenz.”

“Well, it was on the market for pretty cheap, and it made sense with our stories, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, a store clerk and a handyman don’t exactly bring in a lot of money”

“Then maybe you should have chosen to be a doctor.”

“Come on Ed, you know that our training in the military didn’t leave us much time to study anything else. We can’t pull off a skilled profession of that caliber.”

Edward snorted. “When then, it would of been cooler if you’d  _ both _ been handymen. You can’t just leave Hawkeye to do all the hard work.”

Havoc sputtered.

“What’s this we’re talking about,” a feminine voice cut in. Is Havoc not pulling his weight?”

“Lies! That’s all lies!”

Ed turned around to see East City’s resident sniper sporting a soft smile, looking to be in a considerably light mood considering his little food spill earlier. 

“Well, since you gentlemen seem to be settling in nicely, I think it’s time we finalized our story. Let's sit down somewhere.”

The two boys trailed her, making their way to the newly repaired couch. Ed plopped down, cross-legged and shifted to get more comfortable. “So, what persona are we playing? Am I gonna be an allstar sports captain, or maybe that loner tough-guy that’s always brooding in a corner?”

“I don’t think you’re quite tall enough to fit into either of those roles Boss,” Havoc quipped.

Expectedly, Edward let out a loud scream in response. “WHO YOU CALLIN’ SO SHORT THAT HE CAN’T WEAR A DOLL’S CLOTHING!”

“Honestly Boss, you make it too easy.”

The loading of a gun caught their attention. In the background, Ed could hear Havoc complaining. “Seriously Hawkeye, do you always carry that with you?”

Calmed down (or maybe worked up, but for a different reason), Ed followed with, “So what’s it gonna be?”

Sighing Hawkeye, said, “For now we just want to keep a low profile. We’re settling in and we don’t need another reason to stand out. Unfortunately, Ed, your arm will do that. I propose that we say it’s from an accident you had helping me repair a car. A rusted piece fell off and cut you. In order to stave off the infection we had it amputated.”

“What? That’s so lame!”

“Yeah, Hawkeye, I thought that Roy said we would just say that it was from the Eastern Rebellion. The truth ain’t that bad”

“If we said that, it’d only draw more attention to us.” It was true. People were attracted to stories of violence like a moth to a flame. But Ed couldn’t let people go around thinking that he’d lost his arm due to some silly mishap.

“Hey, lieutenant, if people ask, can I say that I got it from a car accident?”

“I know where you’re going with this.”

“Just hear me out, either way we word it, the story’s still a car accident. Like, the metal falling, still a car accident. But this is just… way cooler.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, as long as we don’t elaborate.” Ed pumped out his fists.

“Hey, Hawkeye,” Jean said. “What about Ed’s leg? The likelihood of him losing that in ‘the car accident,’” here he used air quotes, “is really low.”

“Luckily for us, the school Ed will be attending is a stickler for dress code. Ed will be forced to wear pants at all times.”

“I guess that works.”

“As far as family relations go-”

“You’ll be my aunt and the second lieutenant will be my uncle. You two are married and are looking over me while my mom is deported in Drachma. Mustang wouldn’t let me leave without hounding that in me.”

“Good. Me and havoc are going to be working around town, trying to figure out all we can about the missing kids. I’m working night shifts to keep a look out during late hours so I’ll need some time to rest before we go out for the day. This means that there is a certain time frame where you are not, under any circumstances to leave the house.”

“But-” Ed argued.

“No.” She looked at him and made sure he met her brown eyes. Slowly, as if to enunciate each word, she said, “The targeted group is from 10 to 19, you’re more at risk than either of us Fullmetal.”

It was for that reason that Mustang had to fight tooth and nail to get Alphonse to stay away. His little brother tried every argument he could think of to get him out of the mission, and when that clearly worked, he tried to enlist himself into the mission as well. It was only with the addition of Havoc to the original two-man team that Alphonse seemed to calm down. At least with Havoc, there’d be someone around at all times. Except for at school, Ed was completely guarded. And yet, Ed still couldn’t shake the feeling that his brother hadn’t stowed away on the train ride to Crosshurst.

Defeatedly, he agreed. “Ok… It just doesn’t really make sense for me to be here if I can’t be out there questioning people all the time, which isn’t really possible if my aunt is trailing me 24/7. I can protect myself, you know.”

“We know, Ed,” Havoc said, “but think of it this way, going out there and acting all suspicious won’t exactly help us. A little kid asking strangers about missing children isn’t exactly normal. It isn’t the same as at a school.”

“LITTLE?! WHO ARE YA CALLING LIT-” A resounding smack echoed across the room, and Edward’s neck was beet-red (that was only a small exaggeration). 

“It’s time for you to go to bed. We’re walking around town tomorrow, getting to know the place.”

Rubbing his neck angrily, Ed stalked up to his room. “You didn’t have to hit that hard,” he muttered.

***

It was midday by the time that Edward got to go explore Crosshurst with Hawkeye trailing dutifully behind him. Havoc had already gone off the meet with his manager in a department store downtown - Charlie’s Goodwares or something. Hawkeye, ever efficient, had somehow performed a job after he’d fallen asleep and they were currently having ice cream cones bought with that money while they walked along the street. Well, Hawkeye was having an ice cream cone. Ed had transmuted his ice cream cone into a cup to catch any runaway drizzles of the frozen treat. Hawkeye’s glare at that almost made him piss his pants. 

They made their way around a corner when the lieutenant grabbed his arm softly. She had her arm stretched out, pointed at something in the distance. Ed craned his neck to see. In a clearing there was a group of three boys playing a rudimentary game of hitting a wooden wheel with a stick. Hawkeye told him to introduce himself to them. 

“No way,” he whispered. “If they’re playing like that then how old can they be? Plus, look at their size. I don’t think I’ll look like anything but some creep if I walk up to them.”

He looked up at Hawkeye to see her eyebrow lifted in amusement, as if to say, ‘look who’s talking’.

Feeling his face flush, he quickly replied, “Shut up!” and turned back to the kids. To his dismay one was approaching him. As the boy drew nearer, Ed could make out blue eyes hiding behind dirty blond hair, and brown suspenders holding up stained paints. Blue eyes was smiling, looking directly at him.

Eventually, they were close enough to shake hands, and the stranger held out his for Ed to take. He raised his right arm instinctively, but stopped halfway and raised the other out of habit. The automail was gleaming in the sun, and surely noticeable, but the other boy didn’t comment on it. Instead he said, “Hey! I’m Genima, but people call me Genny.” He pronounced it strangely, sounding out Ga-en-eee. It didn’t sound like any name Ed had heard in his travels, but he hadn’t exactly been this far north either. 

“Me and my friends saw you staring at us. You’re new here, probably. People don’t like staring around here. They say it’s rude. But we don’t mind. You can play with us if you’d like. The tall one is named Richie. You can’t see from here but he’s like, six feet. He helps his dad lift lumber for winter and stuff though so maybe that’s why”  _ Oh god, he talked  _ **_a lot_ ** . “Then the one in the blue shirt is Matthew. He’s gonna be a poet one day. But he doesn’t let us read what he writes. He’s real sensitive about it. So you probably shouldn’t ask. Oh wait, I never asked your name, sorry. What’s your name?”

“...Edward,” he said, “but I prefer it if people call me Ed.” He really only liked it when Alphonse called him by his full name. It felt like a special term of endearment that only his brother could use, even if other people tried to. 

“Ok Ed, come and join us.” He grasped Ed’s arm, jerking him forward. Looking back at Hawkeye, he saw her nod in approval before he left, her arm waving towards an empty table by a delhi store. At this he allowed his body to be yanked forward.

“Hey Matthew! Richie! Wait up! This is Ed!”


	2. Mission: Friendship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B

At the clearing where the three boys had been playing, he noticed leaves piled up, smashed as if a heavy weight had landed on them. He got a small wave and a bright smile from the tall one, Richie, before the boy turned around and hit the wheel with the flat stick in his grasp. The other one, Matthew, turned away the second their eyes met, scrunching up his shoulders in an act of fear(?)

“Hey, Ed!” Richie said, not looking up from his occupation. “We’re playing jump the hoop. But Matty here won’t participate!”

The boy in question seemed to shrink, his body folding even more. “I-I’m not allowed to get these clothes dirty, I told you!”

“That’s what you always say, Matthew,” Genima/Genny cut in. “If you’re so worried about ruining them, then why don’t you take them off. Mom doesn’t like when I do that, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. No one really cares, ‘s just good manners, is all. Remember that one time when…” Ed blocked him out of his head, debating whether or not to run while he was still distracted. Unfortunately, that decision was taken from him by the call of the other boy.

“Hey, Ed, do you want to give it a try?”

Curious, Ed asked, “How do you play?” Before, he thought the boys were only hitting the wheel to make it roll further, but ‘jump the hoop’ was not in the list of childhood games he’d heard of before. The idea that this was something that could get him dirty, peaked Ed’s interest. That meant that it might have a more physical component to it, which was much more entertaining than moving a wheel.

“Well,” Richie started, goodnaturedly, “One of us has to keep the wheel in forward momentum at all times, while the other has got to jump through it. One point for getting in, five for making it through, and ten if we manage to avoid touching it. Though… that’s pretty hard. I’ve only done it a few times myself.”

Ed eyed the wheel. It was about one and a half feet in diameter, and it’s curves looked smooth enough to steadily roll. It shouldn’t be too hard to jump through it, especially if he timed it right. The only difficulty he’d have would be to dive down low to get through. “Ehh, sounds easy enough,” Ed responded.

The other boy laughed. “That’s what I said too, but I’ve only actually managed to get fully through a few times. It’s hard to correctly time your dive.”

Ed stretched his arms, and in doing so he felt more than saw eyes on him. He looked up at Richie, who was somewhat captivated by the metal arm, but that wasn’t where the most discomfort was coming from. Matthew was looking at him in definite concern, his mouth shaped in an ‘o’, trying to form words that would not come. Eventually the timid boy asked, “Did it hurt?”

Ed thought he knew what he was talking about but, just for clarification, he followed up with, “The arm?” The other boy nodded his head. 

Remembering his tale, the alchemist said that it was from an accident, and that he was more scared than hurt. Neither of those were a lie. It wasn’t like he wanted the transmutation to end up the way it did, and he was way too worried about Alphonse to feel much pain at the moment. 

“So don’t worry about it,” he finished with a grin. “I’m used to it now.”

The other boy still didn’t look convinced, so he showed his automail off, the well-treated metal shining under the sunlight. “There's some cool advantages that come with it too. For example… Richie, I think I’m ready to jump the hoop now.” The other boy nodded in excitement, picking the wheel up and walking it some distance before rolling it towards him. Once the wheel got about 5 feet away he crouched down, hunching his back to make the dive quicker. At 2 feet he flexed his toes and pushed off the ground, shoving hard against the dirt surface. Moving his arms to direct his dive, he flew through the hoop, landing roughly on his right side. 

There was clapping almost immediately. He raised himself up to his forearms and looked behind him. Genima had a big smile on his face and seemed really excited. Richie whistled in awe. The last boy still looked a little scared so Ed did his best to offer him what he thought was a comforting smile.

“Y-your parents… they won’t be mad?”

“No,” Ed said. “Why would they be mad?”

“But, your automail, it’s all scratched up. It’s expensive.”

“Oh,” Ed let out a sigh at that. It wasn’t like he’d expected anything different from that landing though. While walking, he could tell the ground was hard. Even though somewhat north, Crosshurst was dry… much more so than Resembool. To keep up appearances as a handywoman’s nephew, he figured it would be weird for him to be stingy with his arm. His alias meant he’d always have someone nearby who could fix it - not at the same professionalism as Winry, but enough to keep it functioning until a checkup was available. So it was kind of disheartening to realize he just risked a brush with death - via a certain gearhead’s wrench - for nothing. “Well, I can always fix it.” 

He reached his hands up to clap, to smooth the metal plating that was thankfully only scratched, when he realized that he wasn’t supposed to be a highly skilled alchemist here. Quickly switching his hand’s pathway to rub at his metal arm, he finished, “With sanding! Yeah! I can always smooth it over with sanding! So, it’ll be good as new tomorrow, don’t you worry!”

“Can you even smooth it over with sanding?” Genima asked. “I always thought that was only for wood, but shows what I know about it. My dad knows a mechanic though. He’s a merchant, so he’s traveled over all sorts of places. If you ever need help, he could get it for you. My dad helps everyone! Anyways, you should show me how to do that sometime! Oh and Richie and Matthew too! You were working on a gift for your father, right Richie? But you said you didn’t have the tools necessary to make it polished enough? Maybe Ed can help!”

Ed was a little lost, he didn’t really know much past general knowledge on mechanics (or any kind of handiwork, really) and he knew that if they kept pressing, the gig would be up before it had even begun, but Richie, his savior, thankfully declined for the time-being. “Maybe,” he said, “but we just met him and I don’t want to impose. And besides, I was kinda hoping that I could figure it out myself, make my old man proud, ya know?”

“That's so awesome, Richie!” Genima crowed, spitfiring questions at the taller boy. Ed noticed the soft look Richie had on his face when he was looking at his companion. It was fond and gentle and reminded Ed of how his mother used to look at him when all was happy and well. It was the look of someone who cared deeply. Maybe it was the universal look of how a parent looked at a child, or, in this case, how a brother looked at a brother. Ed wondered if he was often caught looking at Al like that. 

For the first time since meeting the trio, Ed’s brain made the connection that Richie looked a year or two older than the others, standing at about 6 feet tall in comparison to their five (Ed had basked in the glory of seeing them from afar, miniscule formations of colors) and was more hardened in form, with a sharper jaw and broader shoulders, though still narrow enough to be considered a kid. 

“How old are all you, anyways?” he questioned. 

“I’m twelve,” Genima said proudly.

Richie responded, “Fourteen.”

For a while Ed thought that the last boy wouldn’t say anything, but Matthew finally mumbled “twelve” under his breath.

“Cool,” Ed said, “I’m thirteen.”

“Thirteen?” Genima questioned, “but you’re so small.”

“Small? Small?! You’re just as tall as me you peanut-sized runt!”

Genny chuckled. “You- you know you just insulted yourself, right?”

“Shut up!” he cried, feeling a blush work its way up his face. “Anyways,” he said, trying to save face, “You brought me here to play jump the hoop, but I’m the only one who’s actually gotten a turn. Are we doing this or what?”

They played the game for the rest of their time together, Ed occasionally faking clumsiness for the sake of not appearing too coordinated. By the time the sun was beginning to set, Richie and Genima had gone their separate ways, each off to their homes for the night. That just left Ed with Matthew. The quiet boy had yet to say a word to him in their isolation, choosing instead to hide his timid eyes behind a fringe of unruly black hair, made to look blue under the warmth of the setting sun. He often looked to Hawkeye, pleading to her with his eyes to come and save him from the socially awkward situation, but she was being distracted by a stout woman that looked to be in her later ages. He’d get no help from her. 

Trying to give off a somewhat friendly demeanor (it’s not his fault that he was often brash and prickly if Al continued to be so kind to potential convicts) he sat down on the grass, resting on extended arms. “So, you’re not all that talkative. What, you got a stick up your ass or something?”

Matthew inhanded sharply, looking down at him a little flustered. “You shouldn’t say that,” he warned, “It’s impolite.”

“What’s more impolite is not talking to people who’re in your company.”

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, “But it feels weird talking to strangers. And dad says I shouldn’t do that.”

“Your dad seems to dictate what you say a lot. If my dad was so controlling, I’d tell him to shove it.” He marked that piece of information in the back of his mind. Anything was helpful in the early stages of investigation. “Besides, we’re not strangers, I’ve known you for like, five hours now.”

If he wasn’t flushed before, Matthew was definitely red now. “You really shouldn’t say things like that. You’ll get in trouble.” It was definitely weird seeing people react to his words this way. At Eastern Command people had gotten used to it pretty early on. Ed may be being a little biased, but he’d even say that they were fond of it.

Using his own past experiences for his story, he dismissed the other boy’s warning, saying, “Don’t worry, I’m fine. My aunt is used to it by now, so the most punishment I’ll get is a scary glare. Though those do tend to make me fear for my life.”

Matthew shook his head, black hair flying everywhere, “I wasn’t talking about your aunt, though maybe you should respect her too. I was talking about the teachers at school. They absolutely hate foul language. You’ll get off with little more than a slap on the wrist the first few times, but the multiple-time offenders get paddled. Trust me, you’re better off keeping your mouth shut.”

Ed frowned. That didn’t sound legal, and it was definitely something he’d write about in his final report. Seeing that this was the most he’d gotten the other boy to say in an hour, he pushed further. “Is that why you’re so quiet? The teachers hurt you?”

Matthew looked appalled. “No.” He shifted uncomfortably where he stood. “I’ve never gotten in trouble at school. Not since I was very young. It's just…”

Ed leaned forward.

“...I shouldn’t be telling you this. No offence Ed, but you’re just a stranger to me. I’ve known Richie and Genny my whole life, but you just a few hours. I don’t really feel comfortable telling you my problems like this.” Judging from his body language, he’d clamped up again. His pale arms were drawn across his chest protectively and he avoided Ed’s eyes. He began shifting around, eyes eventually settling on something over Ed’s shoulder and he relaxed noticeably. 

_ Ouch _ .

“I really should be going Ed,” he said and started to make his way back to the area where Hawkeye was. Key word: tried. Before he got so much as three feet, he tripped on a lone stick, halfway buried underneath leaves, falling backwards onto his elbows. “No, no, no, no, no,” he chanted, cradling his arms tightly.

Looking closely, Ed could see brown and green smudges on the light blue material, most prominent on the point of impact. He didn’t know why Matthew was acting so negatively, but he tried to placate his companion. “Hey, don’t worry Matthew. That stuff should wash out easily; it’s just grass stains.” Then, eyes widening as he realized that the boy could be upset for an entirely different reason, he asked, “You- you aren’t hurt anywhere, are you?”

He reached for the other kid’s elbow, not caring about personal space since he was from a very hands on family. Matthew surprised him by pulling back, not letting himself be touched. “No! I’m fine! You don’t have to worry about it!” he said in a suspiciously high voice.

“Are you sure?” Ed asked, “It wouldn’t be a bother to check.”  _ Hey _ , he  _ could _ be nice sometimes.

Before Matthew could answer and a set of footsteps echoed behind him and a cold voice spoke. “I believe my son told you he was fine. I don’t appreciate people making him uncomfortable.”

Turning his head, he was able to catch the image of a tall man in his late thirties, with graying hair curving around his ears.  _ This must be Matthew’s dad _ , Ed thought. The two did look somewhat alike. The both shared blueish-black hair and dark blue eyes. They had the same sharp nose and dipped eyebrows. However, unlike his son, Matthew’s father had neither baby fat softening his cheeks, nor his gentle composure. This man screamed authority, and he was a little intimidating - even for Ed.

“Matthew, what did I say about talking to strangers?”

“That I-I-I shou-shouldn’t do it sir.”

The man smiled slightly before pulling his son into a hug, running his hand through black hair in an attempt to ease the shaking that the young boy had taken to. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked fondly. His other hand came to rest over his back, fingering a stain left there by the fall. The man’s eyes hardened. “Son, what happened to your shirt?”

“Uh, uh, well… I tripped a little… I’m so sorry, I know how expensive this was, but I promise I’ll clean it up!

Matthew’s father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “It’s fine… we’ll talk more about it when we get home.” Matthew gulped.

Ed was seemingly forgotten in all this, so he lifted himself off the ground and dusted himself off. As if a switch had been flipped, the father’s head snapped to him, navy eyes locking into molten gold.

“Listen kid, I don’t appreciate you asking my son something he’s clearly uncomfortable about. Since I haven’t seen you around I’ll let you off with a warning, but next time this happens I will not hesitate to talk to you parents. Do you understand?”

Ed nodded.

“Good.” Gesturing to his son, they walked off together, down the street and around a corner, Matthew giving Ed an apologetic look before he disappeared. 

The Fullmetal Alchemist stood in the now empty clearing, looking around helplessly for Hawkeye to pick him up. Seeing that she was still engaged in conversation, he decided to linger awkwardly for a few more minutes. That idea, however, was quickly dashed as he saw her twitch into an offensive position, hands brushing her gun, multiple times. He quickly ran over. 

“Hey, Aunt Elizabeth!” he called, hoping to stop an accident before it was too late, “We should be getting home soon, I don’t wanna wake up tired for my first day of school tomorrow.” That was a lie. He didn’t give a crap about his sleep schedule. He still had nightmares about that night two years ago, so the likelihood of him being well rested were little to none. And that wasn’t even considering how late he’d be up reading. 

“Oh, Edward,” Hawkeye acknowledged, “This is Mrs. Sauer. She’s one of our neighbors.” The first lieutenant bit out the name like it was poison on her tongue; he could feel her dislike of the woman down to the very flesh on his bones. The woman in question was, surprisingly, undisturbed by her tone - maybe unobservant or even ignorant, but not affected. “Mrs. Sauer here has been giving me a  _ lovely _ description of our new home.”

She turned to the stout lady. “I apologize, m’am, for cutting our time here short, but we really must be going. We prioritize my nephew’s education in our household and I don’t want to be responsible for his hardships. Now, if you excuse us…” Hawkeye gripped Ed’s neck rock hard, and if he hadn’t seen where her annoyance had been directed, then the boy would have thought she was trying to strangle him.

Luckily, before more harm could befall him, Mrs. Sauer courteously accepted their excuse, praising Hawkeye for ‘having her priorities right’ and wishing Ed luck on his first day of school. 

Once out of earshot of the lady, and safe in their car, away from any passerbies, Hawkeye released her grip, apologizing for letting her anger get the better of her.

“It’s fine,” said Ed, “Though, I’m wondering what exactly she did to get on your bad side?”

Ashamedly, she admitted, “While I initiated the conversation, to pick up information about our area, it was she who extended it. Mrs. Sauer doesn’t like to keep her mouth shut, and had a lot to say - most of it useless gossip. When she was talking, I couldn’t keep a spare eye on you, and any attempt I made to end the conversation failed. I fear, in my annoyance, I reacted as though I would when any of our colleagues are acting irresponsible. In short, I was jepordizing our mission by my decision and reaction. I apoligize.”

Ed laughed. In between chuckles, he managed to get out, “It’s fine… Nothing happened… You don’t need to be so serious all of the time.”

She frowned, her stern expression easily seen in the rear view mirror. “There is nothing to be laughing about. This mission is highly dangerous for us, you included. People have gone missing without so much of a trace, and if we don’t dedicate ourselves to this job fully, then more could disappear. Furthermore, the most dangerous job belongs to you. If you had been hurt or taken, Edward, that fault would be mine. I won’t have that on my conscience.”

Noting the sincerity in her tone, Ed nodded in agreement. Realizing that her eyes were on the road, he said, “I understand.”

***

During dinner that night, there was a knocking at the door. Havoc went up to answer, but Hawkeye was just around the corner with a gun at the ready. Edward was left alone at the dinner table, still wolfing down Xingese takeout. Ed didn’t necessarily believe anyone would attack them at the moment, but even he was prepared to defend himself with a clap of his hands. It would be amusing if someone were to politely knock before trying to kill them, however. 

When he hadn’t heard any guns go off in the moments that followed the opening of the door, he stood up to investigate. There, sitting on the doorstep, was a decent-sized, brown paper box with a cream colored note attached to the top. It read: For Mr. Edward Watson. 

Havoc grinned down at him. “Well Boss, what do we have here? Already found a secret lady friend to deliver presents to you? Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Havoc,” Hawkeye butted in, “Edward isn’t as pervasive as you.” 

"Hey!"

Turning to the thirteen-year-old, she added, “Well, are you going to open it?”

Bending down and picking up the package, he observed it for a moment before reaching out and ripping it open. There was a white material laying inside. Feeling it and finding it soft to the touch, he gripped it and pulled it out. “Clothes?” he clarified.

“Ah yes,” Hawkeye said. “I do remember Lady Blanchard saying something about dropping uniforms off. Are there anymore? You’ll need at least three for the week, assuming you’re fine with wearing one a day.”

He dug around some more, finding a total of four shirts and four pants. The pants were a dark brown in color, looking to be of stiff material.  _ Well, maybe a little alchemy would be able to fix that _ , he thought.

Lifting the last of the clothes out of the package, he found two pairs of shoes, one fancy and looking extremely uncomfortable, the other more flexible and worn-looking.

“What the hell is this?” Ed asked, pointing to the more fancy looking pair. “How the hell am I supposed to walk in these?”

“Oh?” Havoc questioned. “Those look like dress shoes.” He broke off into loud peals of laughter. “Looks like you’re gonna be learning how to dance, Boss.”

“Dance?! Why do I have to dance?”

“You know, it’s considered a valuable skill to have in life,” Havoc said.

“What the hell does that teach you in life?”

“Oh, say, I don’t know, when you’re at a business party and you need to impress a dozen girls or so with your suave composure.”

“Please never say that again.”

“That is not why you need to know about it, second lieutenant.” Turning herself around, Hawkeye fixed a (terrifying) smile on him. “Since class has been in session for two months already, it’s safe to say that most kids will have already broken their shoes in by now. What do you say we practice a little? Throw them on and we can get started with something simple.”

This was more terrifying than any gun Hakweye could pull out of her belt. “No, no, I’m good,” Ed said,  _ pleadingly _ .

“Nonsense, Edward,” Hawkeye said, “These are things that are expected of you. I will not have my nephew failing his most basic class.”

Ed looked to Havoc for help. He got the betrayal of a once-trusted comrade instead. “Sorry, Boss, but it’s true. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you don’t know how to dance.”

Ed really felt like a child here, with two overly enthusiastic babysitters to keep watch over him. Except, one of them was trying to teach him false wisdoms of life and another thought he was a human-sized doll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm writing them kind of out of character right now, but I'm slowly revealing certain details that might make everything more understandable later in the story, and hopefully patch that up. Anyways, after my last finals are done I can really focus on writing so yay! Next chapter: Ed finally goes to school.


	3. Mission: Survive First Period

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> enjoy!

Edward felt tiny - not that he was - in comparison to the huge archway he stood under. For such an ordinary town, the school seemed to have been made for the extraordinary. There were white marble columns holding up intricate statues like the ones seen in Cretan history books. Shining windows let outsiders view into neatly arranged classrooms. The open doors to the main building were about 12 feet tall and made out of polished wood. Needless to say, his usual black shirt and red coat would have felt out of place had there been no uniforms, though he would still rather ignore the dress code than wear  _ this  _ ignominy.

He hadn’t noticed just how expensive this place looked when he was with Hawkeye, instead too focused on finding the lovely (yeah right) Lady Blanchard.

Gripping his schoolbag tighter, he adjusted it on his shoulder before proudly making his way through the school doors. Students looked at him before quickly glancing away, seemingly ashamed of themselves being caught staring, which was strange because the people in Central and Resembool just didn’t care.  _ Definitely peculiar _ , he thought, trying to focus on finding his classroom instead.  _ D14, D14, _ he repeated in his head. 

There were multiple halls of classrooms, all of which were marked by the golden plaques to the left of their doors. The similarity in all these halls were that there was a distinct ‘A’ carved in before the numbers, not a ‘D’.  _ This must mean that my class is located in a separate hall _ , he thought to himself. 

He absentmindedly wondered if the classrooms were sorted by age, since he saw a bunch of little kids running around - they couldn’t be more than ten years old - and a few older looking teens who were over six feet. He didn’t think that they’d be put in the same class as him since there were so many kids here.

He made a few more turns, brushing off the messily-covered-up stares of other students while he did so. Ed was a few floors up and probably lost before he made it to his destination. Just in time, in fact, because the bell rang with not a second to spare. 

He had barely stepped into the classroom before the last notes of the bell cut off and he was met with the not-so-concealed stares of his classmates and the bored gaze of his teacher. “Sorry,” he let out, trying to portray bashfulness at his behavior. 

That was one of the main downsides of his mission - making himself a believable student. To do so, he would actually have to be a well mannered and attentive student, because that was the mindset of everybody else. According to Mustang,  _ that bastard _ , if he acted too much like himself, he’d draw too much attention, and compromise his cover. Which Ed thought was rude, by the way. His normal self could be perfectly inconspicuous when he wanted to be, thank you very much.

Luckily, his teacher didn’t make a big deal out of his absence, only telling him to “sit down, please,” while muttering that ‘the school should really provide new students with maps’ under his breath.

Edward made his way to an open seat in the back of the room, sitting down as inconspicuously as he could, while the teacher began droning on about lessons. Ed thanked whatever was out there that the day would begin with mathematics, because he didn’t think he could handle starting the day with  _ grammar _ , a subject that he was loath to admit he might struggle in.

It’s not that he was  _ bad _ at the subject, but rather that he was only good at spotting errors, not preventing them. He first learned the bothersome practice from his mother, but her attention was more focused on providing for them than tutoring them. After her death, the subject was all but forgotten; the brothers were more preoccupied with mourning. It wasn’t until Teacher took them under her wing that it became part of their lives again. However, she had taught it for its practical use, coding and decoding alchemic research. Needless to say, Ed would know when something was wrong, just wouldn’t be able to fix it.

He was snapped out of his musings by the call of his teacher. “Watson,” the man repeatedly called. It took an embarrassingly long time to realize that his teacher was addressing him by his alias. 

Playing up the timid schoolboy act to the best of his ability, he asked, “Yes, Mr…” His eyes strayed over to the desk, cursing at his uncharacteristic display of forgetfulness for not only missing his name, but also his teacher’s. Across the desk, papers were scattered, along with the occasional grading pen. The plaque in the center revealed his teacher’s identity, Mr. Monet.

“... Mr. Monet,” he finished.

Unescaped from his mind, however, was the odd souvenir located on top of the desk, an ornate music box. For a supposed decoration, it seemed a bit much, so Ed filed that tidbit of information away in his head, not exactly sure what it meant.

“Mr. Watson,” Monet began strictly, “I asked you if you would so kindly look at problem number three on the board.”

He looked up at the number in question. It was simple, and Ed had been completing work like that even before he took up alchemy. He didn’t know if he should solve it correctly or incorrectly.  _ Which would be best for the mission? Solve it too easily and it seems suspicious that you were able to complete it without paying attention. Solve it incorrectly and you could risk seeming behind the class, and therefore not fit for your role in it. _

Mr. Monet must have mistaken his hesitation as confusion, because his eyes got a softer look, crinkling up at the edges as he opened his mouth in a small smile. “It’s okay if you don’t quite understand, Edward; I understand that we may be moving at a different pacing than Central. Just give it your best, okay?”

Ed nodded, frowning slightly as he didn’t like to be underestimated. Deciding that solving the problem wouldn’t be so bad., he got up from his seat, calmly walking up to the board. After all, they were just ‘moving at a different pacing than Central’. Who’s to say that Central wasn’t the one ahead?

He picked up the chalk, first starting by isolating the ‘n’ and making the first equation equal to the second. The problem only took about a minute, but he could tell that his teacher was struggling not to give him pointers the whole time. After he finished, he put the chalk down and returned to his seat.

“Well.” Monet looked surprised. 

Jerk.

“It looks correct.” He turned around, and in a scarily chipper voice, he said, “See what happens when we give it a chance? Despite solving the problem the wrong way, he still managed to wheedle out the correct answer!”

Ed felt his eyebrow twitch.

_ He did not solve it the wrong way. _

He told his teacher as much.

Monet, grimaced, obviously trying to stay cordial despite being contested. “I’d love to say you didn’t, but there are crucial steps missing to get to your answer. Guessing is hardly solving it correctly. Perhaps you’d like to explain how you got your answer to the class?”

The man’s reaction almost wanted to make Ed stop pushing. Almost.

“I’d love to.” Rolling his eyes, he made his way up to the chalkboard once again. 

A chiding voice rang out in his head, sounding suspiciously like his younger brother. “Don’t make a big deal out of this, Edward! Just ignore what he says and continue with what you were doing.”

He did end up hesitating, but only for a moment. There was this part of him that couldn’t back down from a challenge. If he deemed himself able to do something, then he would succeed in it. It was that way with the human transmutation, and it still was that way with the philosopher’s stone. It wasn’t so much about confidence and pride as it was about reassuring himself. Even something as small as this served to irate him. It’d nag and pull and pinch at the back of his head for the rest of his life if he let it go. He knew it. If he wasn’t able to do something as easy as this, then what hope did he have of locating the legendary stone?

Clenching the chalk in his hand - flesh, thankfully, or else it would have been ground into powder by now - he started the problem again, this time careful to include every step he took, including those he completed inside his head.

“Like I said, I didn’t solve it the wrong way, I just used a different method than what you must have been teaching your students. I don’t understand why you do so many steps anyways. If I tried to do that for every problem I  _ would _ get them wrong because my head is so far ahead of what I’m writing.”

Instead of looking affronted like anyone else should at being proved wrong, the man clapped his hands with glee. “Oh, you are correct! It looks like I was wrong about you, Edward.” Deciding to turn this moment into another lecture, he addressed the class. “Edward was absolutely correct. While I don’t condone the attitude in which you spoke to me, I do know that as we advance in our mathematics, we will be given the opportunity to look at questions in different ways, and having multiple skills when it comes to a certain problem can be useful in finding one of the correct answers.”

A student in the back raised her hand. “One of?” she questioned.

“Oh yes, later in this chapter we will discover that there are multiple solutions to a singular problem. I know it sounds confusing right now, but…” The man continued on with the lesson, and it took Ed a few seconds of confusedly standing there before he realized that he was dismissed back to his seat.

***

The bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Ed made his way over to the door only to be stopped by Mr. Monet’s voice.

“Edward, I would like to have a word with you.”

He made eye contact with him, nodding his head briefly. Gripping the straps of his backpack tightly, he meandered back inside. A few of the students gave him sympathetic looks, one even having the gall to grip him on the shoulder as some form of comfort. He made a weird face at the feel of his hand on metal. Maybe the automail wasn’t as noticeable as he thought…

His feet made his way over to the desk for him, leaving him standing awkwardly in the now empty room. “I know you just transferred here recently,” his teacher began.  _ This is it. I’m already in trouble. Nice job, dumbass. _ “And I know I may be asking a bit much, but I would like you to remain in here for a bit and fill out this worksheet for me.”

“Why?” Ed asked suspiciously. He knew to be cautious alone; he wasn’t likely to forget the scary talks he had with Hawkeye as of late.

“This may seem too soon, but I would like you to take my past year’s final exam.” At Ed’s imploring look, he elaborated, “I recognized the formula that you used to solve problem three. It isn’t mandated to be taught until you’re in the upper classes… at least. Furthermore, your explanation was extremely thorough, and it seemed to me that you understand it to its fullest potential. I think, if your understanding of these equations is anything like the one you solved on the board, then you’ll need to be placed in a class more suited to your level.” 

Ed swallowed, concerned at the suspicions it would bring if he was bumped up a class. He had opted out of taking chemistry for that very reason. Instead, he signed up for biology. Maybe it would have been smarter to not take a math. He needed to buy time to talk to Hawkeye and Havoc about it, to make sure that it wouldn’t be harmful to the mission. “I’d love to, but I don’t want to miss out on my next class. I was almost late to yours as it is. Besides, I’d feel kind of bad if I interfered with your next class.”

“Nonsense,” he said, seemingly blind to Ed’s reluctance. “I have a free period, right now, so you don’t have to worry about that. I can write a note to your teachers. They’ll understand. Now, what do you say to that test?”  
Okay, so he seemed to be really adamant about Ed taking that test. Either he was an overenthusiastic teacher, or he could be in on the disappearances occurring around town. It was still an unneeded risk to their operation. _Stall for time. Stall for time. Stall for time._

“I really can’t do this without talking to my guardians,” he said. “I don’t think they’d feel comfortable with me skipping  _ another _ grade,” he lied, hoping that Monet would take the bait.

He did.

“Oh, I see,” he said, blinking away the shock. “Well, I can’t see why taking a simple test would hurt, but I can respect the appreciation of your family. By the way, if you don’t mind me inquiring, how many grades have you skipped?

“J-just the one,” he squeaked. A non-helpful voice spoke up in his head,  _ you sound even more suspicious than Al when he was hiding that cat, ya know. _ Exhibit A on why Fullmetal should never be assigned to an undercover mission again, he sucks at lying. His role in this was something he still couldn’t rap his head around, three weeks after the debriefing. 

Luckily for him, his teacher seemed too distracted by writing on a piece of paper to notice, only letting out an absentminded hum. His attention was once again diverted to the music box, just like it had been at the beginning of class. Trying to use the newfound silence as an excuse, he asked, “So… that looks pretty expensive.” He gestured to the box. “What’s it doing in a place so hazardous as this?”

“Mmm?” Monet lifted his head up. “Oh that. It’s a gift from a family friend of mine. I keep it here because it helps get me through the day, just remembering her.”

“Oh,” Ed said, having enough tact to realize that it was a rough subject. “Sorry, for bringing it up.”

“Nah, it’s fine. This piece of finery always brings a smile to my face. I get to keep some part of her with me.” He finally finished his writing, handing it over to Ed. “It’s for your teacher,” he said. “So they know that you weren’t just ditching.”

“Uh, thank you,” he said awkwardly, because he had no idea how to respond to anything the man had just said. He spared one last glance at Monet, noticing for the first time how young he was, and how likely it was that the music box could be a memory of a recent lover, or something of the sort. But telling himself that did nothing to ease the strange feeling of suspicion. While Ed had no doubt that the emotions behind it were real, that didn’t mean that the story was complete. He wanted to know what was inside. It wasn’t every day that you see a music box that large, after all. Unfortunately, he couldn’t legally search it, not without further evidence.

“Oh, and Edward.” The alchemist turned around. “Don’t forget to ask your guardians about that test, okay?”

_ What was so important about that damned test anyways? _

He made a hasty retreat out the door. Music boxes. Final exams. Insane teachers. All of this was written on his mental list of things to report to Hawkeye and Havoc.

_ This is just the first period _ . Mentally, he screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASJEKLSKLALELMALEK. This chapter was sooo hard for me to write. Idk why. I guess it just hates me. Anyways, enjoy the fifth draft of this, while I go cry in a corner. Also, I was about to go onto a tangent about geometrical sequences, but I figured you wouldn't like that, so count yourselves lucky. I hope this turned out better then I think it did :)

**Author's Note:**

> R&R please! Hope you enjoy it!


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